Help Me
by BakuBakuRemix
Summary: There's no one to stop Bakura now.


He felt a mithless chuckle escape his lips, watching with passive interest as his host cowered back from him into the corner. "Do you actually think that'll help, landlord?" he asked, raising one silver dusted brow at him, shaking his head.

The boy shook, and he scoffed, rolling his eyes when he dropped to a crouch and covered his head with his hands like the cowardly child he was. Blood trickled from the corner of his torn lips where he'd struck him, mingling with the tears coursing down his cheeks. "J-just leave m-me alone," he demanded, though the way his voice shook it came out more as a wimpering plea.

Anger like a spark, it hit him somewhere in his chest and he backhanded him fiercly across the face, glaring dangerously down at him. "Ordering me around?" Stooping low, he grabbed a fistfull of his host's mane, silver rivers streaming over his fingers as he wrenched him upwards, pulling the brat to his feet. The pained yelp echoed around the small apartment, singing music to his ears.

Suddenly those eyes looking up at him were wide and petrified with terror, and it took him a moment to realize a predatory grin had split over his face like a manic feline. "P-please.." Oh, the begging now. Fingers were clutching helplessly at his clothes now, entreating. "D-don't, please, I'll.. I'll do better.."

Smirking, he released the boy's hair, placing his hands softly on either side of his face. Almost tenderly he stroked the tear-streaked cheeks with his thumbs, drying them gently. Though the gesture was almost loving, his host's panic only seemed to grow - not that he'd expected otherwise. "You've done nothing wrong," he told him after a moment, corners of his mouth turning up in what would nearly pass for a reassuring smile.

The eyes went wider, somehow. "Th-then.. why...?" The voice was broken and trembling, teetering on the edge of crying again. That wasn't new though, the boy was always on the verge of tears these days.

"Because I like you like this," he hissed, pressing his free hand crushingly over the boy's windpipe, feeling his breath catch beneath his grip. "So cry for me, _pretty Ryou_." He spat out his name as if it were poison.

Of course, it went without saying that his host couldn't manage so much as a word, let alone a proper cry while being strangled. He loosed his hold with another grin, stepping back a pace as he collapsed back onto the ground, weezing and clutching at his neck. "You alright there, Princess?"

No response. Not surprising though. Still holding his ever-present Cheshire smile, he knelt down before his host and looked into his eyes, almost snickering at the blatant fear he saw in them.

Without warning he seized his wrists, pinning them above his head with one arm and forcing him roughly to the wall. The boy whined a little, and Bakura ignored him, too busy fishing in his pockets. Ah there it was. With a flourish he produced a triangular pocketknife, silver dancing in the dim light as he revealed the blade.

He didn't allow the boy time to react. He buried the knife to the hilt in his flesh, pinned to the wall between the bones of both of his trapped hands, like a butterfly on display. The howl of agony, wracking sobs of suffering, sent a pleasant shake all through his limbs. The blood pooled around the wound and dribbled down his host's arms like crimson veins spreading all over. Pausing, he lapped at them absently with his tongue while the boy shuddered and cried helplessly beneath him.

For awhile he saw fit to merely watch the blood drip, and by the time he was growing bored his host had gotten some of his nerve back, either having grown used to the pain, or possibly just numb by this point. "M-my... H-h.." His words trailed off into nothing.

"Hm?" he replied thoughtlessly, idly fingering the butt of the knife. "What did you say?"

It was hard not to laugh at how badly his voice tremored. "M-my friends, th-they'll help me.. Y-Yuugi-kun.."

"Ah, I see. Hn." He paused thoughtfully, regarding the ceiling above him as though it were particularly interesting. For a few moments he didn't reply, still casually fingering the handle of the knife. At long last he smiled sadly down at his host, abruptly wrenching the knife free to another chorus of screaming and sobbing.

"Stupid brat. If you had any friends, you wouldn't be in this situation - I'm all you've got. Shall we continue?"


End file.
